Still of the Night

Killian adjusted his grip on the steering wheel as he drove slowly off the ferry onto Skye just as it began to rain. He swallowed hard and followed the vehicle in front of him. After merging onto the road, Killian took the curves around the isle with trepidation and anticipation. An odd mix, to be sure.

Nothing had changed.

And yet, so much had.

It felt like a lifetime since he had last been on the isle. In many ways, it had been exactly that. When he last drove the roads, he had been on top of the world. It had been the best summer of his life. He hadn’t a care. No worries, no doubts. No fears. How naïve they had been—he had been.

The windscreen wipers diligently kept the glass clear as the drops beat fiercely upon his SUV. It kept him from catching a glimpse of buildings and the landscape, but he knew from his memories how deep a blue the water was, and how vibrant the green grass could be.

Killian kept to the roads along the coast instead of heading straight to his destination. Mainly because he was a coward. His nose wrinkled at that. His father would’ve denied such a thing, but it was true. He was scared. More frightened than he had ever been about anything, including standing in court in defense of his clients’ livelihoods.

He found an area to pull off the road to stare through the rain-drenched windscreen to the brooding Cuillin Mountains. Locals called this range the Black Cuillins because of the dark color of the rock. Killian dropped his gaze. His mood matched the weather. Maybe it was a sign that it had begun to rain the moment he drove onto Skye. Or perhaps he was being superstitious. There was no way the weather cared about mood, much less one person in billions. Killian shook his head and pulled back onto the road.

His drive took him through one village and then another. He passed cottages dotting the landscape. Some near the coast, some higher up in the hills. He drove around lochs and past waterfalls. It was the same, yet different. Each time he attempted to head toward his destination, something held him back. Finally, he gave up and made his way to the B&B where he had rented a room.

His mobile rang from its place in the cupholder. Killian ignored it, not even bothering to look down. He knew it was his father. Killian kept his focus on the road. The problem was, Killian wanted something he couldn’t have. Yet a last teensy bit of hope had sent him toward Skye the night before. One way or another, he would find the answer to the question he didn’t dare speak aloud—not even to himself.

The ringing finally stopped, only to start again a moment later. Killian reached over and silenced it. He would talk to his father eventually, but not yet. Brian Flanagan had a very narrow view of the world, and few things could alter it. Killian didn’t want to waste his time explaining—for a third time—only for the conversation to end in another argument. His father could wait.

Everyone could wait.

For the first time, Killian was doing what he wanted.

That thought brought a flood of memories from that long-ago summer, and with them, the soft, Scottish words, “It’s your life. You get to make your own decisions.”

He had brushed off her words then. If only he had listened. How different the last nine years would’ve been… The only time he had done what he wanted was that summer. For as long as he could remember, his life had been planned for him. Where he went to school, university, his job, and even when he was expected to marry, along with who he was to take as his bride.

The tires of his vehicle crunched over the B&B’s pebble-lined drive. The house was as charming as one would expect from such a location, but he didn’t care about that. It was the first one that’d come up on his search, and he had booked it without looking at any others. Plus, it was close to the location where he would head next.

Killian climbed out, pulling the collar of his coat up in a vain attempt to keep the rain away, then got his luggage from the back of the vehicle and walked to the door. He shook himself off under the awning before entering. A friendly woman and her wife greeted him. He spent a few moments exchanging pleasantries while being checked in, but once he had the key, he promptly made his way up the stairs to the second floor.

He barely noticed the floral wallpaper, the light green bedspread, or the throw pillows when he dropped his luggage near the bed and walked to the large window. Trails of water mixed with drops on the glass, giving him a rain-soaked view of Skye. Melancholic gray clouds covered the expanse in every direction and hid the sun and blue skies. Killian quite liked the weather. He’d always had an affinity for storms, especially those involving thunder and lightning. But any storm would do.

He sank onto the chair next to the window and continued his perusal of the landscape. There was a small sliver of blue from one of the lochs he had driven past. Had he swum in those waters? It seemed they had always been swimming that summer. Swimming and loving, laughing and talking.

The sun had never been brighter. The storms never so fierce. Life had never been so vibrant and beautiful.

Love never so abundant.

Killian blew out a breath as he stood and pulled out his laptop. He set it aside on the bed, searching for the stack of papers he had put with it. He found them and carefully folded them to stuff into the inside pocket of his coat. He paused, trying to decide whether to remain in the room with his memories or dare to face the past.

He swiped his keys from the bed and strode out of the room, the B&B, and into the storm. Once he was behind the wheel, he started the engine, only to hesitate again. Rain pelted the windscreen with fat drops. He’d left his mobile in the cupholder of the vehicle. The screen lit up with another call. Killian flipped the phone around and put the SUV in reverse.

His stomach didn’t churn as it had when he’d first driven onto the isle. After pulling onto the road, he took the long route to town. Funny how he still knew where everything was after so many years. Truth be told, he hadn’t wanted to leave that summer. Who would? No matter where he went, who he was with, or how much money he spent, no holiday had ever compared to his summer on Skye.

But it hadn’t been the location or his travel companion. It had been her.

It had always been her.

The fast whoop-whomp of the wipers matched the pounding of his heart the closer he came to town. He stopped to allow someone to dash across the road to their car, then stopped again when it looked as if a family were thinking of making a run from the cover of a shop to their vehicle. They decided against it, which meant Killian had to keep driving.

He saw the black-and-white-striped awning before he reached it. Like a giant, flashing arrow pointing to the building from above. Killian parked but didn’t get out. The Tea Talker was busy, even with the weather. He rested his hand on the Audi’s door handle, ready to open it as his gaze locked on the entrance. Whenever it opened, he sought a glimpse inside in the hopes he might see her. Killian thought he spotted someone with dark hair at the same instant the wipers swiped across his view. Then the shop door closed.

If he wanted to see Ariah, he would have to go inside. But to do so would be to face her and the terrible words he had spoken so long ago. It was the reason he had come to the isle, but it proved a lot easier said than done. He should’ve spent time thinking about what he wanted to say during his eleven-hour drive. Instead, all he had been able to do was think about their summer together and how he wished to turn back time and change his decisions. Take back his words.

Ariah would listen to what he had to say. That was the kind of person she was. She wasn’t one to lash out or retaliate. Ever. Her grace and compassion weren’t weaknesses nor limitations as he had once thought. They were her strength and power.

His hand fell from the door. What would he say to her? What could he say that might allow her to forgive him besides: I’m sorry. That didn’t seem like enough.

It wasn’t.

He was sure she would forgive him for the simple reason that she knew he wanted it. But would it heal what he had done? She might not even want him anymore. Ariah had never been one to follow others. She didn’t stay on a path. She wandered and rambled, creating her own course.

His father called her a free spirit. Brian couldn’t understand anyone who didn’t follow guidelines. Maybe that was why Killian had found Ariah so appealing. Their chemistry had been undeniable—like magnets unable to stay apart. They had met his first day on Skye and were inseparable afterward.

Killian wanted to be a part of Ariah’s life. He’d had the chance once. Would she give him another? He didn’t deserve it, but maybe if he proved that he wasn’t the same man he was then, she might open her heart to him again. He would do whatever he had to, try for however long it took.

But first, he had to see her.

He looked at his mobile. He could call her. He had nearly done just that so many times over the years. On several occasions, he had punched in her number but hadn’t been able to hit call. Fear of being rebuffed kept him from doing it. It was the same anxiety that’d brought him to Skye. Nothing like being rejected face-to-face.

Killian chuckled to himself, shut off the engine, then climbed out of the Audi and forced his legs to move. He was soaked before he reached the awning. His hand pushed open the dark green door before he changed his mind. He stopped short the moment his feet touched the narrow-planked wood floor that ran in diagonals.

If any place was the epitome of Ariah, it was the Tea Talker. The store was Ariah, from the soothing, eclectic décor to the numerous plants.

“Welcome,” said a blonde in a green apron as she walked past.

Killian let the door close behind him and scanned the interior while searching for Ariah.

“You look soaked through. I can take your coat and hang it up if you’d like.”

He belatedly realized the blonde was speaking to him. He shrugged out of his coat and handed it to her. “Thanks.”

“Take any table. The best is over in that corner.”

He followed her finger to see a two-seat table tucked between a wall of glass and a wall of plants. It did look inviting. Now that he was here, he never wanted to leave. Everything about the shop was inviting and alluring.

“First time?”

“Aye.”

Her smile widened. “It won’t be your last. I’m Ruby. I’ll be by in a moment to get your order. You can see a list of teas near the register.”

Ruby walked away while Killian headed to the table. His gaze was drawn again and again to the wall of glass jars behind the wooden counter and the old-fashioned cash register. But where was Ariah?

As if his thoughts had made her materialize, she came from the back, holding a bag. He stood frozen, afraid to move or speak. Ariah was unchanged from when he had last seen her, as if time had stood still for her. But he knew every inch of her heart-shaped face and delicate features, particularly the dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks. He knew the suppleness of her lips, the way her golden-brown eyes could ensnare him with a single look. He knew the softness of her creamy complexion.

He knew the wild abandon with which she loved.

His fingers itched to tug away the scarf holding the lengths of her dark locks to see it cascade down her back. Was it as long as it used to be? Longer? Gold earrings with stars and a crescent moon dangled from her lobes. The swells of her breasts were outlined by the maroon shirt she wore with its long bell sleeves and low neckline. He spotted bracelets on her wrists. A leather belt revealed her narrow waist as her vibrant Bohemian skirt flared and hung nearly to the floor, giving just a glimpse of brown boots.

The mere sight of her took his breath away. Just as it had the day he’d met her. Just as she always would.

He had one chance to make things right, one opportunity to have the future he had so recklessly and thoughtlessly thrown away.